


Time After Time

by DarkSammyProdigy02



Category: Supernatural, Wincest - Fandom
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Crossroads Deals & Demons, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Implied Mpreg, Knight of Hell Dean Winchester, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Mpreg, Time Skips, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester, Warlock Sam Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2019-09-14 13:22:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16913631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkSammyProdigy02/pseuds/DarkSammyProdigy02
Summary: Sam is a warlock that has walked the Earth for over three-hundred years, and his mind has deteriorated to the point of where he can’t even remeber anything from his past. He summons the last Knight of Hell, Dean, so that he can complete a spell that will finally kill him. Things don’t exactly go according to plan.





	1. Chapter 1

 

“Stop, please, please,” The woman sobbed as she is starting heaving and making strangled sounds in the back of her throat. A fresh stream of snot burst over the crusted layer on her nose as she shuddered,” …Stop! I’m begging you – Please! _Fucking stop_ – God, help me!”

“He’d doesn’t have a lot to do with this, sugar,” Dean drawls, setting down the blowtorch and taking up a scalpel. He examines it in the light, admiring the shine of the blade,” He couldn’t give a rat’s ass about you or any other meatsuit that gets thrown into my circle.”

Without a doubt, by the time the woman was through with her ugly cry episode she looked like a homeless person with pink eye who got punched a few times in the face and was hit a monsoon. This was completely normal when one was being tortured. Dean snorted, twirling the scalpel between his fingers as one bored in class would fiddle with a pen. As he edged the sharp edge close to her neck, the woman screamed, saliva and snot bursting out of all crevices like a potato being overdone in the microwave.

Boy, what a scream that was. It made the hair strand straight up on the back of Dean’s neck. It wasn’t the loudest most piercing scream he had ever heard, but it had managed to annoy him slightly. It sounded like a scream of wild panic. A scream of hysteria and disbelief, bordering on terror. All the demon could care about was the fact that during the bitch’s hysterics, he’d been in the splash zone. With a sigh, he used the edge of his thumb to wipe off some of the saliva.

“I’ve barely done a fuckin’ thing,” Dean snarls, his black eyes drilling into the woman’s,” You’ve been on my rack for a total of 12 _damn_ minutes, and you’re already blubbering like the blond-headed little shit from Dawson’s Creek.”

The demon lowers the scalpel, his lips parted in anticipation as the sharp point barely grazes the skin and he let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Then he senses another presence in the room, a pulsing azure expanse of soul, another demon, so he halts the scalpel just above the woman’s jawline. He gritted his teeth, his eyes like bottomless pools of darkness flashing in warning, as his lips curl menacingly into a snarl,” I’ve. Had. Enough. The next whiny intern that comes in here looking to me for a cookie and a hug, I swear to Satan, they’re next on the rack.”

“Dean, the ‘blonde-headed little shit’ you’re referring to is Dawson, hence the title,” Crowley purrs, “Don’t you know your onions?”

“Oh, it’s just…” Dean trails off, picking up his scalpel again, plastering a wolf-like smile,”You,” The Knight curled his lip in disgust, his scalpel stopping an inch from the woman’s jugular vein,”I’ve never actually watched the crap,” He turns his back to his superior, holding the blade of his tool across the trembling skin once more,”I can’t imagine anything I care less about.”

“Netflix...”Crowley protested, sliding his hand under the scalpels sharp edge right at the plunge,”...is the one good thing these bags of puss have managed to bring into existence. It’s one of the few human commodities that I yearn for.”

Dean pulled the blade from the latter’s hand, a gush of blood spurting out. The King of Hell casually pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away some spots of blood that had gotten on his face. The Knight makes a noise in the back of his throat, eyeing the woman on his rack and the metal tray covered in various razor blades, scalpels, rusty hooks, and such; all in a clutter in a mess of knotted hair and flayed skin. He was known for his messy work area, so it was hard finding something to quickly silence the woman, her feeble whimpers starting to grate his final nerves.

The demon finally decided on a rusty set of saw teeth, the handle absent due to the fact he used it as a makeshift iron knuckle in an earlier session. He set to work quickly holding the saw by the smooth end and slamming it down with his inhuman strength on the woman’s neck like a guillotine. The woman’s noises halted instantly her head rolling off the table onto the floor below, and the other demon stepped over it as it rolled his way.

“I mean,” The King of Hell states,” Have you never taken a moment to laze about and watch a few episodes of _Orange is the New Black_? You seem like a bloke that’s for that girl-on-girl stuff – “

“Not interested,” Dean grunted, slamming his blade into the metal tray, making some of the blood pooled inside slosh over the edge,” Now, what are you doing here?”

“Come on now, Dean. I thought we were friends,” Crowley purrs his red eyes flickering,” Can’t I just drop by your circle of hell and exchange words? Not fists; preferably only in the bedroom, if you’re kinky like that.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. He grabs a piece of the woman’s ripped off blouse to wipe the blood off his hands, remembers how she’d cried when he’d cut it, thinking his desires laid purely with her body. Fortunately for her, the demon’s sexual urges were a bit more complicated than some common svelte bitch with little to no ass or tits. He preferred someone a bit more _male_ … as in someone with a dick, and an ass he could bounce a quarter off.

“I referred one of my most utterly exasperating customers to you,” The King of Hell admits,” He is an extremely powerful natural warlock that has been around since the 1700’s and is most likely the deadliest in the world.”

The Knight hummed softly, tucking the piece of cloth into his side pocket,” And what does this have to do with me?”

Crowley presses his lips with a slight frown, before taking a heavy seat on the side of the rack. He regretted this action the very second the bottom of his finely tailored pants squelched on what looked to be a pile of soggy ramen noodles but was more likely to be brain matter. The demon rolled his eyes, snapping his fingers, and for the first time in over a hundred years, the other demon could see what his rack looked like beneath the caked-on filth. Dean blinked. He blinked again. Again.

“Huh,” Dean stares with wide eyes and raised eyebrows,” I didn’t think there was an inanimate object beneath all of the… decaying matter. Now I’ve got to build it up all over again; meatsuit by meatsuit.”

The latter let out an exasperated sigh, and continued his nagging,” This warlock has summoned nearly every single high-ranking demon in the pit, but do you know what’s fascinating? Not a single damn soul has been collected, not even a contract! Or negotiations to start one – “The veins in his meatsuit’s neck were throbbing as he hisses,”He is somehow getting away with shitting on our trade, but still managing to wiggle out of making a deal!”

“Pretty sure this is below my payroll.”

“And I’m pretty sure you don’t have a choice in the matter. Yes, and now we have an immensely powerful warlock playing catch and release -- _literally_ \-- with demons,” The King of Hell massaged his temples as he seethed,” It’s a giant pain in the ass -- _literally_ \-- I need you to take care of it. Before others get the idea, they can get out of soul-trading by assaulting hell’s elite with a friendly weapon.”

Dean snorts as he shakes with amused laughter,” Is that what we’re calling ourselves now,” He inclined his head, and guessed,” Wait, so by ‘assault with a friendly weapon’ you mean – Holy shit, this guy is duping some idiots into having sex with him? He’s either crazy stupid or crazy smart, I can’t tell which…”

“Or just plain, old good fashioned crazy,” Crowley quips with one raised eyebrow,” Just do it. And by do it, I don’t mean do him. I mean do him in – “

“Fine, if it’ll stop badgering me.”

At the very moment, Dean felt the mental tug of a summon, pulling at him incessantly. Typical. Every time he had a few precious minutes someone wanted him. All he wanted was to be alone long enough to whip out a bottle of lotion and some tissues - not exactly a lot in the grand scheme of things.

“From one hell to another,” The Knight sighed, before succumbing to the pull of the summoning.

Immediately his eyes shifted to the summoner, not even noticing just where he had ended up. It was a young man with tousled dark brown hair, which was thick and lustrous. His eyes were a mesmerizing hazel like moss creeping over rich soil. A prominent jaw curved gracefully around, and the strength of his neck showed in the twining cords of muscle that shaped his entire body; strong arms, bold thighs and calves, a firm chest and abdomen. Over various parts of his body he had sigils tattooed in dark black ink, all from different cultures and religions. His eyes went lower –

Shorts, if they could be called even that, is what the young man wore as bottoms. He recognized them as what warlocks liked to call enhancement bottoms, but despite the lewd wording, they were not for that purpose; the material used was supposed to enhance a witch’s magical range, not their ass. Perhaps just a bonus? They were a light ochre, and damn near sheer, with black symbols painted over various parts of them. They only reached the young man’s mid-thighs but stayed loose around them almost like a skort.

Dean raised a brow, and locked eyes with him. The demon’s eyes contrasted greatly to the latter’s. “So, you must really be just a pretty face,” He winks flirtatiously as he motions around the room,” Because I’m not seeing a devil’s trap anywhere, sugar.”

The young man parts his lips slightly, the faintest hint of moistness on them, they twisted into an amused smirk,” I don’t need one, _sugar_ – _Nihil erit dimittere te ex malo sunt cervarum_ ,” He expatiated before the latter could even blink, twisting his hands in the air. As words the left his mouth a pressing weight threw the Knight to his knees, and his wrists locked together as if held by invisible cuffs.

Dean raised his head, letting out an annoyed grunt, and refocused on the young man, searching for any kind of emotion in his hazel stare. Usually in a situation like this, there'd be lust, or anger, or anxiety – Nothing. Only a bland curiosity that set the demon’s teeth on edge. The young man moved aside, casually side stepping away from the demon as he begins to gather leaves and stems off of various plants from a large glass herb keeper. They played a sort of a quiet game for around three minutes, until the Knight got tired of waiting.

"I guess kink runs deep in your family," Dean drawled, quirking an eye ridge high on his forehead and rolling his shoulders to indicate the magical bond,” I’m surprised at the absence of a riding crop and bull-gag, a little disappointed if I’m being honest.”

The warlock didn't even acknowledge that he'd spoken. He just continued to work with the ingredients, unblinking, expression slack. The demon suppressed a growl of irritation. What the hell is wrong with this asshole? The young man suddenly turned around, his fingers grazing the side of the Knight’s jawline as his other hand ran through hair, plucking a few strands. The strands pinched between his fingers, he began throwing miscellaneous ingredients into a large copper bowl, chanting soft, little incantations in Latin as he did so.

“Take a picture. It might last longer,” He tried, tone as dry as he could make it.

That at least got a reaction. The young man shifted his weight to one foot and smirked humorlessly for a brief second,” Yeah. It might,” He threw a handful of discarded limbs into the bowl causally,” I only summoned you here for one reason: Sex. I need for you to fuck me.”

“I’m sorry, I think I misheard you, sugar,” Dean utters, blinking in confusion,” Did you say – _Fuck you?_ Funny, I was going to say that to you -“

That was a lie. One common factor among all demons: perpetual horniness. Every demon in the damn pit was ready to sell their grandmother to claim a lithe sex toy as theirs. Then again, they were demons, they’d sell their grandmothers just to find out how many licks it takes to get the center of a Tootsie-pop more than likely. This susceptibleness to an open-legged human was a mental weakness really, something that made any lustful demon a dizzy, drooling mess. Not just any human would do, however, even demons had standards; damn picky ones at that.

“As if you don’t want it too. Demons are hornier than a blind lesbian in a fish market,” The young man rolled his eyes as he asserted this,” Quid-pro-quo. You help me complete this spell and, in the process, you get to have a roll in the hay.”

“A spell?” The demon scoffs and questions,” What kind of spell requires for you to get fucked up the ass by a demon?”

The young man raised on brow, and inferred,” I take you haven’t read that many spells?” He tilted his head and pressed his lips together,” The spell hasn’t worked with any of your… _colleagues_ , so I’m assuming it’s because the spell calls for a higher-level demon. Hence, the need for fucking.”

“You realize of course I was sent here to kill you? Now, how do you think the guy who sent me is going to feel when I find out I nailed my target instead of well… _nailing_ them,” Dean purrs as he leans forward against the bonds.

The warlock maintains eye contact as he utters,” I suppose he would feel screwed,” His lips part ever so slightly in a mischievous smile,” But, you don’t care, do you? The only reason he still sits on the throne is simply because you have no interest in it. Do you honestly regard him as your king?”

“No,” The demon growls softly.

“Then you have no problem getting some tail,” The young man persists.

The Knight chuckles deeply, and responds,”What if I instead choose to reach a hand through your fucking rib cage - “

Without even blinking, the warlock reaches his hand forward and grasps the crotch of the demon’s jeans with an iron grip. He pushes upward ever so slightly his face going into the other man’s as the demon lets out a shaking moan. The young man leans closer, so close that his pink, lush lips graze the latter’s ear lobe.

“If you don’t fuck me, you’ll never get to fuck anyone again... _pissant_ ,” The warlock threatens, his voice unsettlingly cool,”A few words from my lips, and your cock with shrivel up like a raisin. Your balls will just fall off like ripened fruit. And it’ll be that way with whoever’s bones you try to jump.”

Dean grins, his cock swelling against the warlock’s palm through his jeans. “So it’s a fuck-you or live the rest of eternity celibate kind of situation?”

“It would seem so, but-“ But before the warlock can further argue his case, the demon dove forward and pressed his lips against his.

At first the warlock turned rigid, too surprised to react. The Knight pressed his advantage, leaning a little harder as the latter squirmed. He knew how this worked from his own nights with other humans. They would grumble, he persisted, and then they would give in.

So when the warlock pressed against him, letting him take and demanding more, the demon smiled around the kiss. Until he flinched at the sharp pain spreading through his lip, wrenching back with a hiss. He tasted a tiny drop of blood and looked up in amusement at the young man.

A small smear of blood stained the warlock’s lip, underscoring his wide eyes, his quickened breath that wouldn't slow down. He flicked his tongue over his lips once. The young man’s eyes burned bright, and his rapid blinking made it obvious he wanted this. And his mouth was open in clear invitation, for another kiss, another bite...likely both.

“What exactly is this spell for?” Dean questions, his tongue gliding over his lips to swipe at the blood.

The warlock’s lips turned into a thin line.

“It’s like that, huh? Well...it’s going to be hard to fuck you bound like this. Unless you’re planning on riding me like a merry-go-round, sugar.”

The young man’s eyes are blown wide as he parts his lips, and then smiles widely. “ _Solvite_.”

The feeling of being bound resided, and the demon stood to his feet. The warlock stood in front of him, his eyes still eerily emotionless. The Knight considered gutting him like a pig right then and there, but then he felt a painful throb through his much too-tight jeans. And then he felt his belt being slid out through the loops of his jeans, and he knew he was about to fuck a three-hundred year old warlock.

Desire overcame him then and Dean presses forward, let his tongue run over the warlock’s lips; eagerly pressing against them and asking for wanted entrance. When the young man didn't immediately comply, the demon simply nudged his legs apart, placing his left leg in between them and grind it against his lower abdomen in a slow motion; successfully earning a groan from him which left his lips slightly parted.

Dean took this opportunity to fiery intrude his awaiting mouth, first sliding his tongue against the warlock’s own, tasting the damp muscle and his mint flavored breath before exploring further to caress his palate. He tasted incredibly good, and it was almost the same kind of flavor he had imagined that the young man would taste like, however only ten times stronger and more effective as he felt sparks of pleasure being shot through his crotch.

The warlock then suddenly became weak; the gravity apparently becoming heavier for him as his knees began giving in from the constant added pleasure, leaving only the Knight to keep him in place by pressing body against body. Soon clothes are pulled from muscular bodies with force, buttons fly across the room, and Dean's underwear is ripped off of his body. When they are finally naked they’re rolling and tussling on the hardwood floor, bodies gleaming with sweat, their skin marked with scratches and bites.

“Are we doing this on the floor?” Dean asks.

“Can you make it to the bed?” Sam is smiling cheekily, his fingers grazing the head of the demon’s erect cock lazily.

“Fuck it!” The Knight snarls, grabbing both of the warlock’s long legs and roughly pulling him forward so that their hips are pressed together; the young man’s legs spread so far they nearly made a perfect line.

“No,” The young man hisses, his hand gripping the latter’s face,” _Fuck me._ ”

The demon nearly comes right then and there, but instead shoots a wolffish grin,”Don’t you want to know who’s name you’ll be screaming all night?”

The warlock snorts.

“Dean, my name is Dean.”

“I didn’t ask. Are you just going to keep pressed against me all night long or are you ever going to -“

“Name. Now.”

The warlock raises a brow, and scoffs,”Why do you want my name? What use would it be to you?”

“You’re going to be screaming my name all night, I thought I should offer you the same courtesy.”

The young man actually smiled at that. “Sam. It’s Sam.”

“Sam,” The demon almost purrs,”So do you have any thing or am I going in dry?”

Sam brushes his fingers through Dean’s hair before trailing his fingers down along his neck and his chest. “Give me your fingers,” Dean offered them forward, and Sam gently tugged the blood-coated digits closer until they were inches away from his moist lips,”Y-Your hands, they’re are covered in blood. Fuck, you’re covered in it.”

“A demon always is,” Sam’s eyes widened as Dean flashed his bloody smile and black eyes,”Don’t tell me you’ve come this far, had a demon crawl all over you, only to squirm over a little blood -?”

Before he could continue taunting, the warlock lowered his mouth over the demon’s fingers, effectively silencing him. After a moment, he begins to suckle on them gently, lapping up the blood from every digit. The young man then teasingly nibbles on them, his tongue swirling over the tips as the demon just sits stock still.

Finished, Sam pulls back, licking his lips. “There. All clean.”

“F- _fuck_...”

The warlock licks his lips again, before whispering,” _Praelio.”_

Dean grunted in surprise as lubricant suddenly coated his fingers, but he recovered quickly rubbing them together before pressing two slowly into Sam. Sam relaxed back against the ground, moaning slightly when the demon brushed his fingers against that bundle of nerves. He was quick to pick up and moved his fingers over that spot again, moving his kisses up to the warlock’s jaw and then up to his lips.

Sam’s moan is swallowed by Dean’s lips, almost not hearing when the man mumbled against them. The demon’s eyes flashed black as he slowly lifted his free hand forward, his lips splitting into a satisfied grin as he watches the warlock’s limbs move of something that was definitely not of his own accord. The Knight moved his hand forward and slowly pulled his fingers apart, watching enrapt as the latter’s body responded to the movements. Like a puppet being pulled by strings, Sam’s legs spread further apart, a perfect, straight line now, his arms going above his head.

Dean takes this opportunity to readjust his body over his, his fingers still working him open. He then finally takes his fingers out, and the latter whimpers at the loss, his body still pinned to the ground by the demon’s powers. The demon rubbed what was left of the lubricant over his length, slicking himself up as the warlock watched him with a heated gaze.

Sam tried to move, but he was helpless against the telekinetic binds pining him to the ground so that he couldn’t pleasure himself in any way, shape, or form.

Dean chuckled deeply, lining himself up and guiding himself into Sam. Making a deep, guttural sound as he pressed closer to him. The wet head of his cock nudges against his pink hole and the younger man goes wild. A pained, yet pleasures cry flies past his lips when the demon slams into him in one hot, hard thrust. Dean isn’t wearing any kind of protection, so he’s sliding in and out of Sam, bare skin on bare skin.

Being gentle isn’t a demon-thing; especially not with the way Sam’s hole is clenching around his length. And the warlock somehow looks so damn good, red bitten mouth slightly parted in harsh breath, eyes bright with passion. The young man’s whimpers spur him on, so he pounds into him like he’s done to no man before, hitting his prostate with brutal accuracy. Sam pushes back against Dean to meet him thrust for thrust.

“I-I have to do the - _ah_ \- spell,” Sam chokes out, his eyes flittting to his arms,”I need you to let up, De.”

“De? Have I already fucked you senseless?” Dean teases, his lips moving down his muscular chest, attaching to one of the pink nubs. A fast pace of pull out and jerk back in was quickly established, and damn the noises that were coming out of Sam’s mouth.

The warlock let out a soft growl, and hissed,” _Dean_!”

“Fine, you damn stick in the mud.” The demon snarls, halting his thrusts just long enough to free the latter’s arms. He waves his hand and lifts the telekinetic bonds that pin him to the ground.

Sam sighs, and tests his wrists, roasting them and stretching his hands. He smirks, and begins chanting as he outstretches his hand towards the copper bowl. The copper bowl floats into the air, stopping to levitate just a few inches from the floor where the warlock is sprawled out. Dean is still inside Sam, and his hands are tight on his hips. He lets out an impatient noise and digs his nails into the bare skin.

“When you come, the spell will be completed,” Sam says, his lush lips parted ever so slightly.

That was all the permission Dean needed. A side of his lips quirked up and he pulled out and slammed in again. Thrusting a harder, the demon picked up the speed as long legs wrapped and tightened around his waist. He pulled the warlock even closer, sitting up a little taller, the new angle allowing him to nail his prostate easier. The young man made the sexiest of faces in the throes of passion, biting his lip and closing his eyes, it was all he could do not to beg for a round two.

“Oh go—Dean! A- _ahh_!” Sam was practically seeing stars, from all of the pleasure he was feeling. He was close. So damn close. Dean wraps his hand around Sam’s swollen length and starts jerking him off roughly.

“Fuck, I’m almost there. I’m going to make you come so hard, sugar. Both of us, at the same time,” Dean promises, his hand tensing even tighter around Sam’s length,”When we’re done you’re not going to be able to walk straight for a damn week. A month if I go any faster. Maybe you’ll beg for round two?”

“Don’t say shit like that.”

Sam tried to sound embarrassed, maybe even scandalized, but his facial expression says it all. He’s even closer to coming. Dean ups the filth and praise and starts to press kisses onto every patch of skin he can reach. They come at the same time, gripping at the other as they shudder and shake through their simultaneous orgasms, thick ropes of come spraying all over the warlock’s stomach and the floor. The demon pushes in as deep as he can and faintly mourns the fact that it’s over. The copper bowl bursts into flames, the heat so close that it warms their bare bodies.

Panting, Sam begins to chant,” _Solutam me, ait, ista maledictio emittam furorem. collocavit me solutam.”_

The flames rise higher, and the warlock winces, burying his face into the demon’s chest. The Knight does not even flinch, for flames are only a problem to those who are not used to burning. He then notices the physical intimacy of the young man, the way the latter grips on to him like he’s a lifeboat in a stormy sea. Instead of shoving him off, letting him lay naked, used on the cold floor, he pulls him closer settling his chin on top his head.

Sam tenses against Dean, and states,”I didn’t think demon’s liked cuddling.”

“I didn’t think warlock’s complained about _ever_ getting cuddled.”

The warlock frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Warlocks are wart-nosed, hag-faced, cackling bastards riding through the sky on brooms wearing pointy hats. I suspect they don’t get laid a lot, much less cuddled,” Dean pokes fun at the warlock.

Sam rolls his eyes, and points out,”First: That’s witches. Second: Aren’t demons just poor, little tortured souls possessing losers that people wouldn’t notice if they go missing?”

“Not me, sugar,” Dean responds with a wolffish grin,”I’m a Knight so I never served time on the rack. I was created to break others, not be broken. This meatsuit is mine, and mine alone.”

The warlock laughs softly at that, hiding his eyes behind his bangs. “So,” He looks up, his hazel hues wide, and he suddenly looks so young,”Are you planning on sticking around or something?”

“Yeah, for a little bit. I’m still waiting for some answers.”

“Ask away.”

“What was the spell for? Did it work?”

Sam didn’t look surprised at the question, but he did look forlorn. As if he knew the answer would cause him a great amount of pain. “I’m over three-hundred years old, I’m tired, Dean. Years ago, I seeked immortality for a reason that I’ve long since forgotten,” He takes a shaking breath,”This spell is to break the one I casted so long ago.”

“You’re killing yourself,” Dean realizes.

“Yes.”

“You said it yourself. You do have a reason to live.”

“The human mind was never meant to live much longer than a hundred years or so, I’ve more than tripled that,” Sam explains, his voice soft, thoughtful,”Over the years my mind has deteriorated to the point of where I can hardly remember anything of my life. Not even my last name. What’s the point in living for something that I can’t even remember?”

Dean nods at that. “Maybe I’ll see you in Hell. A good number of warlocks tend to end up there.”

“Doubt it,” And Sam’s voice is strained, like he’s holding back tears,”The spell didn’t work. Otherwise I wouldn’t be breathing right now, much less talking to you.”

The demon sits up, propping himself up on his elbow. “So, what? You’re just going to keep trying? Summon another demon to screw tomorrow?”

“You say it as if you care. As if you _could_ care.”

The Knight runs a hand down the young man’s jaw, making him face him. “I don’t,” He states bluntly,”I’m just pointing out the flaws in your plan. I’m one of the most powerful demons. All of the other Princes, and Knights have been slain. It’s like you’d said, the only reason that I don’t rule Hell is because I choose not to -“

“Make your damn point, demon.”

“There is no demon stronger than me. You have no one left to screw,” Dean spat,”Your spell doesn’t fucking work. I would laugh, but -“

Dean got cut off when Sam roughly kissed him. The kiss was deep, and the demon could honestly admit he was surprised. The Knight comes easily, lips already parted and tongue sneaking out to push into the warlock’s mouth eagerly. They kiss for a while, roll around and tussle on the ground, kiss until they’re out of breath. The young man whimpered as the latter pinned him down again, leaned down until he lay across his body, fingers grabbing his hair and pulling until his breath choked out of him in pain.

“So that’s how it is? You realize that you’re cursed to walk this place for all of eternity, so now -“

“Ju-Just make me feel something else. Anything else but this,” Sam whimpers, gentle tears cascading down his cheeks.

“Why are you crying?”

“Don’t you know?”

“... _Yes_.” Dean yanks Sam forward for a kiss, grins almost wickedly when those lips open for him with a gasp. He dives right in, lets his tongue slide into Sam’s mouth like he owns it, deep and dirty with just a hint of teeth.

The demon pressed open mouthed kisses along the younger man’s collarbone and chest, one hand pumping his erection at a fast pace while the other laid on his neck. His mouth latched on to one of his nipples and he began to nibble it softly with his teeth. The warlock lets out a moan, one that is muffled by his hand as his cheeks turn a deep shade of red.

“Killing me here, Dean,” Sam moaned out softly, “Fuck, you make me feel so good...”

“You want this.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes.”

“You _need_ this.” Sam stayed silent.

The demon snapped his fingers and the warlock was lifted into the air by an invisible force, and then flung all the way to the other wall his bare ass smacking against it. As he glanced up, his eyes were wide, but there wasn’t a single ounce of fear in his hazel hues. Without a single warning or even a meeting of eyes, the latter’s length is between his legs, and the head is pushing against his furled hole.

“...I want to hear you say it.”

Sam still stayed silent.

“Say it. I’m not moving an inch until you do.”

The warlock fixes a glare on the demon, before conceding,”I need it. I need you, damn it. I need for you to take the pain away.”

With that, Dean moaned and cursed as he started to slam into Sam, the movements jerky and rough. Sam leaned his face into the latter’s neck, and wrapped his arms around his neck. The warlock suddenly felt the demon’s teeth bite down hard on the space between his neck and shoulder. The young man gasped, pushing up against the latter, but he only suckled at his neck.

“I’ll take it away. But only so I can take _you_. Again. And again. And again.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I am so sorry! If I’m being perfectly honest I forgot this f*cking book even existed! I had the next chapter and everything, I just kinda forgot... for four months. To be fair, I was a little distracted with the Sam Winchester Big Bang, but that is over and done with. So it’s safe to say the updates for this book and all my other books will be a little more frequent ;)

 

The few remaining memories of Dean’s past life are filled with pain. _No._ No, they aren't. He remembers being curled up in a warm bed with another. Chest against chest, hands curled around his small waist, and his nose pressed into his neck. He inhales and there’s a scent of pine. There's warmth and the feeling of belonging and home and comfort.

Sometimes he’ll get these impressions; a room that's completely dull in color, old wooden furniture, a bed with white sheets stained with blood. A boy. There's always a boy. He's lying in the bed, bloody sheets pooling around his ankles. It glistens in the faint light and the demon can't look away. The room stinks with the heavy smell of blood. And he's still breathing.

The boy is always still breathing.

It's all the Knight can hear, the soft rasp as air flows down into his lungs. Each slow and painful breath echoes in his ear drums. Unlike his own body, his own body is silent. Deadly silent. He doesn’t feel alive. He can't feel his heart beating. He can't hear himself breathing. But this boy, fuck, he can feel everything. The gaping emptiness inside his womb. The blood dripping out of his body and the eventual slowing down of his heart. And the breathing.

_In, out._ Painfully slow and never, ever enough. _In, out._

The boy moves; eventually. His head turns even though his tired body should be incapable of it. And inside Dean is begging for him to stop; he doesn’t want to see the boy’s face but he turns and he looks at him. He’s never seen the boy’s face before, not once, but now he sees - .

 Then Dean wakes up. Except he’s not asleep (seeing as demons tend not to do that) when this delusion hits him, so it's not actually waking. More like he’s returning to the here and now after a psychic vision. He can't explain where this has come from. His past memories - his _real_ memories - are all made up of the boy with no face.

But, after that night, after he sleeps with the warlock he does remember more. After several rounds, the two of them had finally make it up to the upstairs bed and the young man falls alseep in his arm. The demon lays there, strangely content with the warlock laying on his bare chest with his muscular arms raveled around him tightly.

_“You know how much I love you like this, angel," Dean mumbled smooching sticky kisses all along the broad curve of the young man’s tummy,”I love how big you are with my baby. And I put him there... Mmmmm..."_

_“Or her,” Sam corrected softly running his fingers through the latter’s closely cropped hair._

“ _Or her,” Dean conceded pressing more kisses to his stomach,”Mine...”_

_Sam hummed as Dean’s hands slipped under his loose shirt and cradled his swollen pecs. Dean’s mouth left his stomach and he stood, trailing kisses down his throat so he could hear him struggling to keep quiet. He liked playing with his lover, trying to force him to make a loud, unexpected cry, something to make him blush with embarrassment._

_Dean moved his shirt higher and gave one pink nipple a long, slow lick. Sam’s lips tightened to muffle his cry. He licked the other, but as it reached the tip of his tongue, he gave the stiffening nipple a small bite, nothing painful, just enough to make him yelp, then force his mouth closed, humming tensely to keep quiet. Seeing him struggle made him smile sadistically._

_Sam abruptly grabbed his pants and yanked him closer, forcing him to stop his torturous play at his pecs and return to his lips. He moved his hips against him until he felt him harden and rise. Dean gave a soft groan at his surprising insistence. He pressed him up against the wooden table, rubbing himself against him in slow thrusts until he gasped. He reached down and palmed him through his pants, getting an even louder grunt from Dean. He knew he had to be gentle, but fuck, he wanted to ravage him!_

_Suddenly the door opened and they heard the sound of footsteps. Sam squeaked, shoved Dean aside, and yanked his shirt over his swollen stomach. Dean turned away, blushing with embarrassment as he adjusted his trousers. Standing in the doorway was a demon Dean was all too familiar with - Crowley._

Dean flinches, before staring at the slumbering young thing in his arms, instinctively tightening his arms around him as he shifted. When Sam was asleep he lay so still. The only movement was the slight rise and fall of his chest. It was hard to imagine that this was the same boy that grabbed his junk and threatened to make him a celibate. In sleep he was angelic, his face as fresh as a dew drop, making gentle snuffling noises as he breathed.

The demon hesitantly pushes a finger forward, brushing it against the warlock’s parted lips. “I remember you,” He says with a heavy sigh. He tilts his head and pauses.

“I-I remember you,” He continues,”But I don’t know _who_ you are... What you meant to me. I only see brief flashes, visions almost, of you and me, me and you - This is one of these very small windows when I’m borderline interested in someone else’s life. So, what’s the deal?”

Sam grumbles something and nuzzles into Dean’s neck, before settling back down. Dean can’t help but let out a soft laugh, settling a hand on top of the young man’s head. His dark hair furled down the nape of his neck while his fringe covered the right side of his face, going a little past his jaw-line. The demon pressed his nose into it, inhaling deeply with a sigh and letting out the quietest of gasps.

Sam wiggles in his arms, gently bumping his head against his nose. “What’s the matter? Are you getting all sore around that hump above your butt where your tail is supposed to be?” He mumbles through a yawn.

Dean flicks his nose but let’s out a little gruff laugh. “Shut your piehole.”

“Whoa, you must have really fucked me senseless,” Sam exclaims with a cheeky grin,”I could have sworn I could have heard you genuinely laugh instead of cackle! And what’s this - Are we cuddling? As in actually holding each other in an embrace?”

“I said shut your piehole!”

“Awww,” The warlock coos playfully, pressing the side of his face into the demon’s neck.

Dean rolls his eyes and presses his chin on the latter’s head. “Like you can talk. You were acting like a total bitch yesterday.”

“Jerk,” Sam shoots back before looking up at the demon. He winks,”Besides, decent sex tends to put me in a sugary-sweet mood.”

“You had better tell me that you just had laser eye surgery and they accidentally severed the muscle that enables you to hold that lid up, because you did not just wink at me!”

“Oh, but I did,” The warlock begins to wiggle again, until the demon hesitantly pulls away from him. He stands up, completely nude, and stretches high onto his top toes with his hands in the air with a loud moan.

The Knight turns onto his side, and leans on his elbow. “Is breakfast in bed always a must after getting fucked by a demon? I mean, I didn’t talk to any of the other guys so - _Oomph_!”

Sam had tossed his discarded clothes over his shoulder into Dean’s face with a smirk. Then he grabbed a plain grey robe off the wall and pulled it over his bare body, before tying the ends together around his petite waist. Dean kicked off the tussled bedsheets and walked the short distance to the latter, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him against his unclothed body. The warlock settled his smooth, unworked hands over the demon’s callused one’s, settling them against his robed stomach.

After a moment Sam gulps and concedes,”I can do breakfast, just this once.”

“Okay,” The demon agrees, pressing a kiss to his neck, his arms tightening around his waist.

“Okay,” The warlock repeats dumbly.

 

 

SPNSPN

 

 

Sam was like a conductor to an orchestra in the kitchen as he whipped out various pots and pans. Then he proceeded to incant to them and the latter watched with interest as each the kitchen began to fill with inanimate objects doing their own duties.

The warlock pointed to a frying pan with raw bacon on it and incanted,” _Coquere rigidas_ ,” And then turns to another pan with eggs in it,” _Per tumultum_!”

The demon lifted a finger towards the loaf of bread, and levitated two slices towards the toaster. He snapped his fingers and the button went down plunging the slices into its heated depths. “I’ve got tricks, too, sugar.”

One of the spatulas that’s scrambling the eggs in midair, turns around and swats his neck. He flinches more in surprise than pain, and snatches it out of the air. He manages to catch the warlock off guard and smacks the underside of his curved ass with a loud ‘thwack’. He yelps and his hands fly to cup his now stinging ass.

“Dean,” Sam exclaims rubbing his ass with both of his hands.

Dean sneers and tosses the spatula into the air before catching it expertly by the handle. Before Sam can even blink the spatula is swinging towards his cheeks again. The warlock yelps and bolts across the kitchen with the demon chasing after him. After running around the kitchen island a few times, he manages to grab the warlock from behind and slam him up against the counter.

When Sam tries to push himself off of the counter, Dean simply swats his ass with the spatula. The demon was behind him now, his groin... his hardness pressed up against the warlock’s ass. Dry lips pressed to his neck and he tilted his head, just slightly, the demon’s fingers sliding up and to his throat, forcing his neck to cant just a touch more. Then he sighs as he feels his hands on the sides of his face, pulling him sideways for a kiss.

“We could do it, again, right here,” Dean’s lips are so close, that he can hear him wetting them with his tongue.

“The food... it will burn,” Sam points out, his voice tinged with annoyance. He can feel the latter shrug against him, but he pulls away anyway, swatting his ass with the spatula one last time.

Dean took a seat at the dining room table, still fiddling with the spatula in his hands. Sam let’s out an exaggerated sigh and grabs a new spatula from one of the drawers, incanting softly to make it pick up a new task. Several minutes later, all the food is hot and ready on paper plates. And despite the fact that he really did just want to have a simple breakfast before sending the demon on his way, somehow he found himself being taken on his very own dining room table.

Sam was sitting on the table, Dean between his legs prepping him with a speed of a dog eagerly licking out its dish. A blunt hardness pressed against his opening. Sam didn't even have a moment to tense before he pressed inside of him, sliding between already wet cheeks. The demon drew most of the way out, sunk deep inside of the warlock again, and again, hammering into him. He wrapped his legs tight around the demon’s waist forcing him deeper, fingers grasping at the white table cloth he’d just washed. The demon growled and took him harder, every thrust forcing out a wanton moan.

Sam pants, biting the latter’s neck to muffle one of his particularly load moans. “D-damn you, Dean. Damn you for doing this to me,” He grits out.

Dean ignores him, and pushes Sam further up the table until he is sprawled on it. He fully drapes himself across the warlock, before resuming his thrusting movements with twice as much ferocity. The table begins to rock back and forth on its legs making the young man being fucked on it yelp in alarm.

“Jesus! Dean don’t you _dare_ break my table!” Sam hisses twisting his fingers in Dean’s hair, and giving it a tug.

“Ow - _fuck_! I won’t, I won’t,” Dean pants, his hands going under Sam to grip his ass and pull him closer. He begins to slow down as the latter wraps his legs around his waist again, their hips bumping against each other.

Sam came, body clenching tight around Dean’s cock and spends himself on on his own belly, his table cloth, everywhere. Then the warlock felt the warmth of hot seed filling him, before the demon eased himself out of him. Now, the warlock was happy he decided to go with the larger table when he was furnishing his house otherwise they’d both be spooning on a pile of splinters. He’d just started to close his eyes in contentment, when he heard a loud crunching noise in his ears.

Sam cracked one eye open and turned in Dean’s arms to scowl at him. “Seriously?”

Dean eases the piece of bacon out of his mouth and pokes Sam on the lips with it. “Good bacon,” And then resumes chewing on it noisily,”And good table. This thing is fucking sturdy.”

The warlock smiles at that and says,”Yeah, it was a lot pricier than the other one, but the sales guy said it’d be worth it in the long run - I don’t think this is what he had in mind.” 

“Reclaimed barnwood?” The demon questions, knocking his fist against the surface.

 “Yeah.”

“Solid top with a clear coat finish?”

“Mmm,” Sam hums softly.

Snuggling against Dean, Sam smiled to himself as the demon traced circles into his shoulder. But suddenly, the warmth that he had gotten used to was being taken away as he got up. Soon, the demon was tugging on his jeans, gathering his clothes that were scattered across the room. Slapping down a card on the bedside table, he turned towards the latter, face cold but eyes full of... some indiscernible emotion.

“My number,” Dean states, tapping the card in the table.

Sam nodded and pulled back on his robe. He tucked loose strands of hair behind his ears, “Do you need to shower before you head out,” He questioned.

Dean nodded stealing one last kiss before walking out of the room. The demon made his way to the bathroom in the bedroom as the warlock trails after him. With just a single hand on the door frame, he paused and turned towards the latter. The warlock sighed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Would you like me to join you?”

Dean smirked and growls, “God yes.”

 

 

SPNSPN

 

 

_Sam walked into the room where Dean had just finished assembling a whole new crib. Eight months pregnant, Sam was supposed to be resting and the fact that he couldn’t nest because they didn’t have a room set up for their son yet had him on the edge. So he had demanded that he have the baby room set up and since his pregnant husband obviously wasn’t going to be much help, it was up to him to set up the room._

_Being the amazing husband that he was, Dean had taken a day off just to finish everything up so that Sam wasn’t stressed anymore._

  _“Everything looks perfect,” Sam sighed happily as he stepped into the room._

_“You’re not supposed to be walking around, angel,” Dean reminded as he walked over to his husband and kissed him on the cheek._

_“Oh, I’m fine. A little movement won’t kill me,” Sam scoffed, leaning into his husband,”...Dean?”_

Dean blinked, looking up at Crowley. “Zoned out,” He mutters rubbing the back of his neck,”Now what are you squawking about?”

“ _Squawking?_ ” Crowley barks, making the two hellhounds curled at his feet lift their heads. He rubs both of their snouts to settle them down, and continues,”You had one damn job! A fairly simple one I might add! With one bloody rule! _Don’t have a roll in the hay with the damn target!_ ”

“For good reason,” The King of Hell hisses, pointing a finger at him,”I should have you strung up by your sack for disobeying me!”

“But you’re not going to,” The Knight drawls with a smile,”Because I’ve taken a liking to this pretty little thing. And as you very well know, I don’t like my things being broken.”

“There are better toys out there. Surely there is someone, _anyone_ -“

“No,” Dean states with a finality that makes the latter press his lips together,”He’s mine. You hear me? Mine! If I so much as head a whisper of his name in the pit, I’ll make the rack seem like a brand new mattress compared to what I’ll be laying down.”

Dean stands and turns on his heel, heading towards the door way. A sharp whistle rings in the air, and all of a sudden the two hellhounds are blocking the doorway. The Knight slowly reaches into the hem of his jeans, clenching his fingers around the smooth handle of his blade. Pulling out the sharpened jaw bone, he turns pointing the tip towards the King of Hell.

“Call off the dogs,” Dean snarls,”Or you’ll be on the ground before their teeth even break my skin.”

Crowley narrows his eyes, but he gulps nervously at the sight of the blade. He lets out a low whistle, and the dogs go back to his side. “You’re making a big mistake,” The King of Hell warns,”Dean... _Dean!_ ”

Dean walks out the door, returning the blade to the hem of his jeans. The shouts grow fainter and fainter, until they’re completely gone. The demon keeps on walking, doesn’t even look back. He has to get to Sam.

 

 

SPNSPN

 

 

Sam makes his way down the crowded street, trying not to be late for work for once. He rolls his eyes at the thought. He doesn’t even know why he tries. But he speeds up anyway. He skids to a halt, however, when a familiar demon appears out of nowhere a few feet in front of him.

Dean looks like he’s about to greet him, when Sam quickly walks around him. The warlock hears the demon practically running behind him to catch up, which of course only makes him g even faster. He nearly pisses himself when the demon just teleports right in front of him, grabbing his shoulders.

 “Why are you running away?” The demon asks, removing his hands and slowing down to a steady walk beside the young man.

“I'm not running from anything,” The warlock argues, avoiding the latter’s eyes,”Unless you’re implying I have a reason to? I think it’s best you go.”

“Not until you give me a second,” Dean shoots back.

Sam scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest,”You can’t keep following me!”

“Why not?”

Sam stops in front of a square white building, with narrow windows in straight rows. There was nothing about it in the very least picturesque or attractive, for it was far too modern to at all suggest anything mediaeval or mysterious; it was just thoroughly mundane. The neon red sign on the front read: Healing Paws Veterinary Clinic. It was then that Dean noticed the pristine white lab coat folded over Sam’s arm, a name tag clipped to the front that said: Samuel Campbell.

“Because this is where I work,” Sam states crossly, his hazel hues narrowed,”If you follow me in here –“

“Just let me talk to you, okay,” Dean proposed, holding up his hands in a form of surrender,”That’s all I want, just need to ask something. If you say ‘no’, then I’m gone. You’ll never see me outside of the bedroom again, and you can carry on neutering cats or defleaing mutts or whatever it is you do.”

Sam contemplated the latter’s words for a moment before exhaling deeply,”Okay, you've got five minutes.”

“I need your help with a spell - _Ow!”_ Sam had slapped both of his hands against Dean’s chest, looking around in alarm.

The warlock, keeps his hands there, and whispers,”You can’t just yell out something about spells where I work! What the hell is the matter with you?”

“What?” The demon barks back, slapping the latter’s hands off of him.

“I try to keep my work life separate from... my personal life, Dean,” The young man explains, tucking his hands into his pant’s pockets,”So can you keep it down?”

“Aren’t you a little too young to be working here, anyway? You’re what - Like twenty at most...”

Sam’s cheeks turn a bright red.

“ _Holy shit -_ “

“Shut up!” Sam exclaims, his whole face turning scarlet in humiliation.

Dean’s lips stretched into a wide and open grin, showing his teeth. “Little mister perfect magiced his way into a veterinary career, huh?”

“I’m more than qualified. Trust me!” The warlock yells, scandalized,”I-It’s just hard to get into schools when you don’t look the proper age...”

“Whatever,” The demon says with snort,”Anwyay. I need your help with a spell. A memory spell.”

“Memory spell? Whatever for?” Sam asks with one brow raised.

“To remember things.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass!”

Dean rolls his eyes, and says,”This is the dumbest conversation. Will you help me or not, Sam?” Sam bites his lip, contemplating, when Dean continues,”Come on, come on, come on! You gotta make a decision here!”

“Alright!” The warlock concedes.

“Alright as in... yes?”

“Yes!” The young man groans, and begins pushing the latter away,”Now go! I have work to do.”

 

 

SPNSPN

 

 

Dean teleported straight to Sam’s house after their conversation finished, and settled on his couch. He summons the remote to the television from the other side of the room and begins watching some reruns of a crappy sitcom. Several hours pass, when the key finally turns in the lock and Sam steps in with company.

Sam is chatting with the other man, but he can tell the other man isn’t really into the conversation. The other man is focusing a little too much on his ass. Then suddenly he’s reaching a tentative hand forward to grab it. Dean clears his throat alerting both to his presence in the room.

The stranger quickly pulls his hand away and asks,”Who’s this guy?”

“I’m his brother,” Dean stands up and offers a hand,”We haven’t seen each other in a while and I decided to surprise him with a visit.”

“And it is quite the surprise,” Sam grits through his teeth.

The stranger takes the demon’s hand, flinging as the bones in his hands pop loudly in the latter’s grip. “Ah, Dean - I’m Harry. It’s nice to meet you -“

“So what are your intentions with my baby brother?” The Knight interupts, folding his arms across his broad chest,”A little... _fucking -_ Maybe a screw, or a bang, or a lay, or whatever you call it? Maybe you’re just looking to get your leg over? Or just some dry humping? A handie?”

“Dean,” The warlock snarls, the lights overhead starting to flicker,”Don’t you have to go back to... _hunting_?”

“I already caught it.”

“Um, maybe it escaped... You should probably go catch it.”

“Fine, I killed it! How about that?”

“I’m just going to go,” Harry squeaks, making a run for the door before Sam can object,”Um, maybe you can call me later -“

Dean growls and snaps his fingers, making the door slam in the latter’s face. Sam sets his hands on his hips and hisses,”Was that really necessary? He was here to talk about work.”

 “Mm, doubt that,” Dean argues with a low laugh.

“It’s not funny! You can’t j-just - _Ughh_ ,” Sam groans, running his hands over his face,”Come downstairs so I can go ahead and get this spell over and done with.”

 

 

SPNSPN

 

 

Sam is still wearing his normal work clothes, much to Dean’s disappointment. The warlock is gathering herbs and casually tossing them into the same golden bowl from last time, and chanting softly under his breath. The demon sighs and adjusts his position in the hard chair he’s been made to sit in.

 “Why aren’t you wearing the booty shorts?” Dean questions, settling his chin on his hands.

 Sam gave him an amused look and corrected,”Enhancement shorts. They’re not needed for this spell.”

“Shame,” The demon sighs.

“Shut up,” The warlock states with an eye roll,”And come stand by the bowl. When I finish the incantation, everything in the bowl will set on fire. When the smoke begins to rise, I need you to get real close and inhale.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. Even you can get it,” Sam says with a thoughtful look on his face.

“What? What are you thinking about?”

The warlock laughs softly and quips,”Nothing. I was just wondering how you comb your hair so your horns don’t show.”

“Or it could be that the very idea of you doing a favor for me makes those ass cheeks clench up so tight that you could shove a lump of coal up there and probably crap out a diamond!”

 “Definitely not. Believe it or not, I’m not turned on my every single damn thing,” Sam counters with an exasperated sigh,”Now shut up. I need to concentrate.”

The young man takes a deep breath, and starts to incant,” _Huius memoriam repetunt. Da plenum est retrorsum -_ “ He throws a handful of what looks like dried lavender and then pulls his hands back. He closes his eyes and makes both hands into a fists, before splaying his fingers out again,” _Nunc autem posuit flammis!_ ”

The bowl ignited in cracking flames and smoke began to rise quickly. Dean sits on his knees in front of the bowl and inhales deeply, the smoke curling into his nostrils. He watched everything in room begin to blur as he began to slump to the ground. He felt hands run over his face, cradling his jawline as lips run over his ear.

“Remember,” Sam whispers.

Then darkness.

 

 

SPNSPN

 

 

Dean sees brief flashes.

 

 

Memories.

 

 

_The boy is on his knees, his hands daintily situated over his lap; unfurled wings stretch behind him. He’s wearing nothing but a cotton robe that Dean had pulled over his trembling, naked body. He has big, wide hazel eyes that go over his body curiously with pomegranate pink lips that are parted. His hair, dark and lustrous, had a sheen like fine hardwood. It swayed in the wind and he grabbed a strand, twisting it in his fingers._

_“What’s your name?” Dean asks, releasing the strand._

_“...S-Samuel,” The boy utters, the feathers on his wings ruffling,”My name is Samuel._

  
_“I think I’ll just call you, Sam. Is that okay?” Dean begins to tug off his morning coat, gently setting it around Sam’s shoulders._

  _Sam nods and pulls the coat closer to his body. Suddenly the boy’s fingers are running down his tie, curiously stroking it. He settles two fingers on the knot, and pokes it repeatedly._

_Dean laughs, taking Sam’s hand in his own. “Tie,” He explains, pointing to the object in question around his neck,”It’s a tie.”_

_“T-tie,” Sam utters, inclining his head to the side._

_“Come,” Dean says, taking both of Sam’s hands and raising him up,”I’ll bring you back to my apartment and I’ll get you some proper clothing. And some hot food to settle your stomach,” He swallows thickly, holding the latter’s hands tighter,”Forgive me. I must be imagining things, but I simply must ask - Do you have wings?”_

_“Y-Yes,” Sam whispers._

  _“May I ask if you’re an angel?” Dean inquires, running his hand up one of the feathers protruding from under hisborrowed morning jacket. Abruptly, the wings disappeared leaving no lumps under the cloth the boy was wearing._

_Sam nods slowly, and bites at his lip. “I c-can make them disappear, when I am here. But I am what you think.”_

_“I’ve never had the company of any angel before,” Dean manages to say,”What does an angel consume for sustinance? Some bread and cheese, perhaps? Maybe a slice of angel food cake?”_

_“I’ve never had any human food before,” Sam admits as his shoulder slump._

_Dean smiles, kissing Sam’s knuckle. “Then this shall be a thing of trial and error. You will eat every crumb in my cabinet if need be,” He gives the angel an almost giddy smile, unaware of why his heart was beating so,”Come now. It’s not proper for you to be out like this.”_

 

 

The memory changes.

 

 

_Sam and Dean are standing in the back of their apartment building, in the small grassy area. Days earlier they’d planted some wheat and barley seeds, and much to Sam’s humiliation, Dean had him urinate on them. But the man’s theory did prove correct, for there were several sprouts protruding from the ground._

_Dean cupped Sam’s still flat belly and whispered in his ear,”You’re pregnant.”_

_Sam grinned ear to ear, and nuzzled his face into Dean’s neck, running his lips over the prickly skin. “I’m so happy,” He says softly, his voice nearly choked by tears,”But I do wish for you to explain to me, again, how this proves it.”_

_“Gross as it sounds,” Dean chuckles, rubbing soothing circles into his husbands belly,”One of the earliest, if not the earliest, home pregnancy tests came from Ancient Egypt. In 1350 BCE, women and men were advised to urinate on wheat and barley seeds over the course of several days; if either of the seeds sprouted they were pregnant. If neither sprouted, they weren’t pregnant.”_

_The boy smiled and placed his hands over his hubands,”And this makes you happy?”_

_“More than you’ll ever know, angel.”_

 

 

The memory changes.

 

 

_When Dean felt resistance on his right, his gaze landed on the sleeping angel, snoozing peacefully. Sam’s cheek was leaning on the back of Dean’s hand and he couldn't help but smile. He twisted his hand around and gently tickled his cheek. The angel mumbled and nuzzled into his palm. Dean continued to caress Sam’s jaw and watched as he yawned and rubbed his eyes as he woke._

_"Dean,” Sam hummed tiredly. He smiled lazily at him before his eyes widened and he gasped,”It’s today, isn’t it? The photographer is coming!”_

_“I’ve never seen one get so excited over having their picture done,” Dean mumbles kissing Sam’s colorbone, his hands going around his little baby bump,”Did we not have one when we were wed?”_

_The angel huffed and points out,”Yes, yes. But this one will be just you and I. No chatter-mags running about in the background!”_

_The man laughs and presses another kiss to his neck. “I want for your wings to be out in this photograph.”_

_The boy falls silent and he stutters,”B-But, Dean... you told me they were to be secret. That I should never, ever tell a living soul...”_

_“Don’t worry, my angel,” Dean reassures, taking both of his hands in his own and pressing them to his chest,”We will claim they are a mere costume piece. Pieces of high quality and realism. If you do not wish to, then you need not to... I just wish to have a photograph with you as you are.”_

 

The memory changes. 

 

 

_“Your name is what again,” Dean questions setting the glass of lemonade in front of the man._

_“Crowley,” Crowley says with a posh British accent and a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He picks up the glass and takes a loud gulp,”Good. Very good. Did your wife make it?”_

_“Husband,” Dean corrects, just as his beloved walks in with a tray of freshly baked cookies,”Speak of the Devil.”_

_Sam smiles, setting the tray on the small table at their feet. He leans back up, rubbing the swell in his stomach and takes a seat next to his husband. Dean wraps his arm around his shoulder, and pulls him closer, setting his chin on top of his head. Crowley leans forward and collects a couple of cookies and quickly begins munching down on them._

_“Do you hail from England?” Sam questions with a curious look, both hands settled on his stomach._

_Crowley swallows his mouthful and nods. “Scotland originally, young lad. But I have... settled there so to speak. Have you ever wandered further than your own states?”_

_“Oh, no,” Sam denies with a shake of his head._

_“What is it you were wanting, Mister Crowley,” Dean interjects with a frown, the grip on his husbands shoulder tightening._

_Crowley clears his throat and says,”I’d prefer to speak with you alone, Mister Winchester.”_

_“I’m afraid that shan’t be happening -“_

_“It’s fine, Dean,” Sam murmurs softly, squeezing his hand,”I’ll wait in the bedroom.” He gets up and makes his way down the hall to their bedroom, closing the door behind him._

_“Now what is it you wish to talk about without the presence of my husband,” Dean questions with more aggression then he meant._

_Crowley’s lips quirk ever so slightly and he inquires,”Tell me, what is your line of work?”_

_“I’m an automobile man.”_

_“And your husband?”_

_“My husband,” Dean says softly,”... currently has no job. He attends the local university to obtain his degree. He’s very, very bright and he has hopes to teach in the future.”_

_Crowley nods and takes another noisy gulp from his lemonade,”He attends while he’s burdened with child? That’s quite the feat.”_

_“It is,” Dean agrees with a faint smile,”Would you mind me asking just what you’ve come here for, Mister? I take it has something to do with a job since you’re leaning towards the subject.”_

_“A job... of sorts,” Crowley answers, snatching up another cookie,”I’m going to be upfront with you. I am the King of Hell and I am in need of Knight. I believe that you fit the bill.”_

_Dean’s eyes widen and he says,”I beg your pardon?”_

_“Please! As if a bloody demon is anything new. You are married to an angel after all,” Crowley shoots back with an eye roll,”Yes, I know what your husband is. I’m all too familiar with his kind.”_

_Dean abruptly stands, his eyes narrowed dangerously. “Out,” He points towards the door,”Now!”_

_“I would contemplate my offer, Mister Winchester. If we do come to make a deal... you won’t regret it.”_

 Dean wakes with his head in Sam’s lap. Sam is staring down at him, his fingers combing through his short hair as hums softly. He recognizes the song as “Born to Be My Baby” by Bon Jovi. The demon abruptly sits up, staying on his knees as he stares at the warlock in front of him. 

 “What did you see?” Sam questions, his eyes wide with worry. 

 Dean doesn’t say anything. He just leans his head down, pressing it against the latter’s chest as he lets out an uneasy breath. Sam places his hands on either side of Dean’s face, making him look up at him. The demon presses both of his hands on the one’s at both sides of his face, relishing in the smooth skin that emitted a warmth he’d long forgotten. He takes one in his hand and presses it to his lips.

“Dean, you’re worrying me,” Sam manages to choke out. The warlock begins to pull away, when the demon tightens his grip around him with a growl. 

“Don’t,” Dean grits out, his hands squeezing the life out of Sam’s,”Please... Just stay. Stay with me, angel.” 

The warlock slowly nods, rubs his thumb across the demon’s cheek bone. “Okay,” He whispers with a slight smile,”I’ll stay. I’ll stay until you can get a grip on yourself.” 

A pair of warm arms surround Dean as he lies down next to Sam. The demon places his head on the warlock’s chest again and he ravels his arms around the latter’s torso, holding him tight. He lazily brings his head up to meet the latter’s in a light kiss. Then he burrows his head into his neck, breathing in the sweet scent as well as the other lingering smells in the basement. Both of their legs are wrapped together, making the two inseparable. The rhythmic beat of Sam’s heart and his warm embrace eventually relaxes Dean, but still he clings to his angel. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Sam sets down a plate with a peanut butter and jelly toast cut into triangles in front of Dean. Then he grabs a porcelain mug with the words ‘I drink coffee and I know things’ etched into it, and fills it to the brim with piping hot coffee. The warlock yawns, and sits down in front of the demon to slurp on his protein shake while fiddling with his tablet.

 “Sorry for the crappy breakfast,” Sam apologizes, not glancing up from his tablet,”I’ve got to leave for work in just a few minutes. You know how it is.”

Dean nods silently, and nibbles on the corner of piece of toast that has crunchy peanut butter smoothed over it. He chews it slowly, methodically, before using some coffee to wash it down. He notices the latter’s eyes on him; his sunflower hues are squinted in worry.

The warlock let’s out an exaggerated sigh, and loudly sets his tablet on the table. “Dean,” He utters, his magenta lips parted slightly,”...What could you have seen that would have made you like this? Tell me, please... I-I’m not used to seeing you like this, and frankly it’s scaring the hell out of me.”

 “...I’m fine,” The demon replies softly, setting down the strawberry jelly smeared toast back onto the plate,”Really, I am. I-I just - What I saw, it shook me to the core, Sammy. And I don’t know what to do... I don’t.”

“But, you’re okay?”

“Peachy.”

Sam smirks, his eyes twinkling as he quips,”I’d make you swear on a bible, but I know how contact with holy things makes your skin sizzle.”

Dean abruptly stands, and makes his way towards the doorway. “I’ve got some loose ends to tie up, but when I’m done...” He turns towards the latter,”I’ll tell you everything I saw. Deal?”

“Deal,” The warlock agrees, taking a tiny sip of his shake. He blinks, and the demon is gone.

While at work, all Sam can think about is the demon, Dean, and how he’d upturned his life in just a few days. Even as he pushes thermometers through many the puckered holes of whimpering pooches, or when he has to give a death sentence to an elderly cat, the damned demon is the only thing on his mind. That is until after he consumes his lunch, and has to go bolting in the direction of bathroom quicker than a buttered bullet.

The warlock hurls his lunch into the toilet and groans loudly. He’s surprised when one of the older desk workers is behind him, and gently tugging his hair out fo his face. The desk worker gently rubs comforting circles into his back, and holds out a plastic cup half full with water, and he took it gratefully. He swished the water around in his mouth and spit it back out into the toilet.

"I think I'm dying," Sam moans, glancing up at her, Mona, he thinks her name is.

"I think you're pregnant," Mona replies softly.

Sam snorts, and states bluntly,”Doubtful.”

“Well you're kind of upchucking your lunch right now, which is a pregnancy symptom."

"But, it's also a stomach flu symptom, or a food poisoning symptom,” Sam argues with a frown.

Then the warlock gags, and leans down as he hurls what’s left of his lunch. The desk worker made a soft shushing noise, and continues to run her hands up and down his back. Then she removes one hand, and begins to comb her long, manicured nails down through his hair.

Mona says,”I’ve got three my own, sweetie. I know morning sickness when I see it,” She smiles softly,”I know the thought scares you -“

“I’m not pregnant,” Sam groans again, before gagging again.

"Fine, whatever you say, Linda Blair," Mona sighs. Sam lays his head against the side of the sink as she refilled the cup and set it down beside him.

  

SPNSPN

 

Crowley dips his quill in the inkwell, allows it to soak for a second then continues scratching on the papers laid out before him. When he’d taken the mantel of King of Hell from Azazel himself, he really didn’t think there’d be so much paperwork. Every single, tedious thing requires paper work to be filled out. Everything from taking a whip from the weaponry, to applying for a higher position in the ranks. Who said hell wasn’t hell for demons, too?

“Crowley.” Dean is standing at his doorway, the first blade drawn from its sheath and pointed at him.

Crowley glances up from his papers, brushing them to the side, so that he could give the latter his undivided attention. “Dean, darling, what can I do for you?” He inquires, leaning back in his chair.

“The warlock, the one you were so determined that I kill. I had him work a little magic on me,” Dean starts, wiggling his fingers next to his temple,”And, well, I learned quite a few things. For one, I was a fairly pleasant human that had no business ever coming to hell, much less ranking as high up as I do. Also, I was happily married to a familiar face with a baby on the way. Tell me, just how in the fuck did all of that go so wrong so fast?”

The demon narrows his eyes and huffs,”Really? That’s what all of this fuss is about? You’re a little weepy eyed because you’re remembering a time when you ripped one that didn’t smell life actual sulfur?”

“Quiet,” The Knight hisses, motioning with his blade,”This whole damn thing stinks of you! So, I want you to tell me every single detail about my past! Like why a warlock has the face of my husband, who was apparently one of those harp-pluckers?”

Crowley rolls his eyes but turns around, shuffles around his filing cabinets, before producing a file with ‘Dean Winchester’ written in bold black lettering on the tab. “When I found you, you were one Dean Winchester. A dull, doey-eyed human that was married to a young man that was more than met the eye,” He explains opening the file and shuffling through some papers.

“Angel. He was an angel,” Dean states softly.

That makes the demon glance up. “So you remember more than I thought?”

“Some things are still foggy so I need you tell me the rest,” The Knight tells him, crossing his arms over his chest, the grip on the blade not showing any signs of loosening.

“I’m guessing the warlock performed a memory spell on you, so why don’t you just wait? These things take time -“

Dean laughs coldly, and steps closer to his deck, leaning on his arms as he spits out,”And have you the chance to pack your bags and make for the hills? Not fucking likely, you son of a bitch.”

Crowley sighs in annoyance but continues shuffling through the papers, before stating,”Fine. Here,” He points on the page,”Your name was Dean Winchester, and you were born in Lebanon, Kansas on January 24, 1879 to John and Mary Winchester. You finished basic schooling then went on to sell automobiles, and had fairly decent paycheck.”

The demon continues,”You encountered a fallen angel sometime around your twenty-fourth birthday, I believe. Instead of leaving it to fend for itself in a strange world, you took it in, and eventually fell in love with it,” He glances up, meeting the latter’s steely glare,”And you two went years without a single inconvenience or grievance, living a happily married life with a baby on the way. Of course, the nehphilm, the spawn of a human and an angel, can be rather tricky. Your beloved died a gruesome death at the hands of your own spawn, for no being, no matter how powerful, can birth a nehphilm and live.”

_Sam panted loudly, his hands clenching the bloodied sheets as he slowly allows his head to fall limp on his pillow. The nurse had already assured him that nothing was wrong with the baby, and that it was being cleaned and swaddled. Dean enters the room, his mouth agape, and he nearly gags when the sharp, metallic smell of blood penetrates his nostrils. Then his eyes settle on the horrifying scene of his deathly pale husband, his thighs slick with blood, so much that the bedding was drenched._

“ _Sam, Sammy,” Dean moans softly, his throat starting to close up as he struggles to keep his tears at bay,”My angel, my sweet, sweet, angel...” He goes to his knees at his bedside, taking his trembling hand into his and squeezing it tightly, pressing his lips to it._

_Sam’s teary eyes meet Dean’s, and he laughs wetly,”I-I did it, Dean. He’s alright,” He licks his lips and lets out a shuddering breath,”He’s already showed off his powerful lungs to the world. I’ve never heard a cry like that pierce my hearing, but it was t-the sweetest sound t-that I’ve ever...” His eyelids droop, and he begins to trail off._

_“Sammy, Sammy,” Dean exclaims, pulling his hand to his chest, keeping it there as his free hand cards through his long hair,”Sammy? S-Sammy! Sammy, please don’t leave me here all alone... A-angel?”_

_“D-De...” Sam murmurs, smiling softly as a tears cascade from his hazel hues,”I-I have missed heaven, b-but I didn’t want to see it again, not this soon. Not until you were with me... I-I never told you how I came to be on this rock, did I?”_

_Dean mutely shakes his head, trying to blink away his own tears._ _Sam inhales a trembling breath, sweat accumulating on his skin that’s icy cold._ _He continues carding his fingers through the latter’s soft head of hair, trying to comfort him. The angel’s hues, that are the softest brown infused with green, glance up at him, as more tears run down his parchment pale cheeks._

_“Don’t cry, Dean. Don’t cry,” Sam whispers gently, swiping his thumbs under his eyes,”I was sent here, because my superiors grew tired of me glancing longingly. I wanted, what no other angel wanted... To walk among humans, rather than lord over them, as our father originally wanted. And you, Dean, you gave me everything that I wanted and more... I love you so much.”_

_“Stop. Stop talking like you’re saying... goodbye,” Dean chokes out, laying his head over Sam’s chest, relishing the rise and fall of it as he breathed. Until it abruptly halted, and the hand that was pressed tightly into his own went completely lifeless,”...Sam? Sammy? Oh, God. Oh, God... Angel, my angel, no...”_

_Dean wraps his arms around Sam’s limp form, pulling him close and burying his face into the nape of his neck. In the confines of his chilling flesh, he sobbed, squeezing his husband’s corpse with a strength he never knew he had. It was almost as if he feebly hoped that if he could bring warmth back into his chilled flesh, his beautiful eyes would blink open and he’d see that dimpled smile again. He imagined that his tears were like hot oil on his husband’s dead flesh, and the thought makes him sob even harder, his body trembling._

_“...SAM!”_

Dean takes in a shaky breath, and asks,”...My son? Where’s my son?”

Crowley frowns slightly and states,”Gone,” He glances up and slides another paper from the file over,”The forces of heaven seized him mere minutes after your beloved died. They realized if a being like that could kill one of their own, it had no right being alive,” He explains.

“So, I lost everything that day,” Dean whispers softly, his eyebrows furrowed,”My son, my husband...”

“You had nothing left to lose. So, you accepted my offer,” Crowley hesitantly justifies,”To take on the Mark of Cain and pick up the first blade - To be my Knight.”

Dean looks at the demon with wide eyes as he inquires,”If he’s dead, my husband, than who the hell is that warlock? Why does he have his face, damn it?”

“...No demon can bring back an angel, wholly or fully at least. It’s one of the few limits to a demon deal, but I did harvest the grace from his vessel, and resurrect him,” The demon says, hunching his shoulders slightly,”The vessel remembered nothing of you, or of his life as an angel. You were broken by this, so you sent him away to live a life of his own.”

“And he became the world’s most powerful warlock?”

“...All in an attempt to remember you,” Crowley utters, gently closing the file,”As time passed, you forgot everything, and I chose to let you because I thought it was best. If you had nothing, no one, to go back to, you’d never want to leave.”

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose and hisses,”So, you tried to make me kill him?” He shakes his head and laughs coldly,”You know it’s funny, he was actually trying to kill himself when you sent me. And I’m the thing that stopped him with just a little bit of fucking. Not like I could have killed him anyway...”

“I’ve told you everything,” Crowley shoots back,”...What are you going to do to me?”

“...Nothing. For now,” Dean utters, sliding the first blade back into its sheath,”In the end, you made it so I could reunite with him, again. Even if you did everything you could to tear us apart. So, for now, I’ll spare you, but if you ever try to do so, again... I’ll find you, in whatever nameless corner of the earth you crawl to, and I will kill you. It won’t be quick, it won’t be painless... Do you understand me?”

Crowley nods, swallowing thickly. “Y-yes,” He squeaks and he abruptly stands. He pushes a hand under his dress shirt and produces an amulet that depicts a humanoid head with bull-like horns,”T-this is his grace. J-just take it, and go...”

Dean takes the amulet, surprised at the warm metal that presses into palm. “You kept his grace,” He grits out, turning his head slightly,”Why?”

“A souvenir of sorts, but if you ever hope to bring him back, wholly and fully, that’s the best place to start.”

The Knight clenches the amulet in his fist, before lifting it over his head and wearing it on his neck. “Consider me retired,” He declares, before walking out. 

 

**Two Months Later**

 

Sam was laid out on his couch, still wearing his work clothes with a warm, wet cloth laid over his eyes. His hand was cusped around a fizzing glass with a two tablets settled at the bottom. The headache he had was quite the bitch; the kind that made light and sound an enemy. He’d been having them frequently since he’d enter entered his second month of pregnancy.

The warlock was no fool, he knew what demons did with their offspring. They grew to be even stronger than those that fathered them, so they were more than often slain in their cribs. At first, he was a little too happy to allow that happen. Then he somehow found himself actually attached to the thing growing in his womb, and had decided to leave before the demon could find out.

“What have I done to deserve this,” Sam grunts when he feels a soft flutter in his belly. He smooths his hand over his baby bump, and tried to sooth the thing that was kicking up a storm,”You’re growing so fast, I can hardly keep up.”

There was no preventing that unfortunately. The spawn of a demon and a human resulted in an accelerated pregnancy, that some humans even died of. The warlock doubted he’d perish as a result of his pregnancy, after all, he’d lived this long. Or, he assumed he had. His memories only go back a few decades, but he assumes he’s lived longer. He just tells people three hundred because, well, it sounded like a badass age for a warlock.

“I’ve been looking for you, everywhere. I had to go though quite the trouble to find you.”

Sam didn’t even have to lift the cloth from his eyes to guess who that was. “Well, you did,” He states,”Congratulations. Would you like a golden star?”

“Why’d you run?” Dean asks, sitting on the edge of the couch.

“I don’t run,” Sam shoots back, lifting the cloth from his eyes, so that he can sit up and glare at the demon.

Dean smirks, and points out,”But, you did.”

“I did,” Sam says with a smile,”You got me there, but I usually wouldn’t. Not unless I had a damn good reason.”

“Why’d you run?” The demon repeats.

The warlock places a palm on his stomach, and admits,”Because I’m pregnant with your child. I’m no fool, Dean,” He sighs softly,”I know what your kind do to their offspring. And know this, I have no interest in you being an active figure in its life, so I have no problem cutting you down where you stand if you try to lay a finger on me.”

For the first time, Dean looks truly and genuinely shocked. His innards liquefied as he gawked in astonishment at the warlock, who stared at him inquisitively. He tried to speak, tried to say something, but no sound came out. This…this couldn’t be happening. This was impossible!

Heart beating madly against his chest, Dean lurched forward, grabbing Sam behind the neck and crashing their lips together. As desperate as he was, he felt the slight bump pushing up against his toned stomach, and he backs up, not breaking the kiss. He would never hurt his child.

Sam was momentarily stunned, but jerked his head back, away from the bruising kiss. He backed away from his grasp, indignant and surprised. “What the fuck –?”

“Sammy -“

“No, seriously!” Sam sputters, staring at the demon like he had lobsters crawling out of his ears,”What. The. Fuck?”

“...I love you.”

The warlock groans aloud, and exclaims,”Oh, God! You’ve lost it,” He shakes his head and lets out a strangled laugh,”You’ve really lost it.”

“I do,” The demon stresses, taking the latter’s hands in his own,”Sam I...I do. I’ve been looking for you all these weeks so that I could tell you the truth.”

Sam pulls his hands away, and runs them over his face, muttering under his breath. “The truth,” He finally manages to utter,”The truth? The truth about what Dean? That you, a demon, fell for me? A lowly, but attractive human. Puh-lease. It sounds like a damn _Twilight_ rip-off, and let me tell you something - I am _not_ your Bella Swan!”

It was a slap to the face, the disgust, the anger, but Dean wasn’t stupid enough to have ever believed Sam wouldn’t react like this. He just had to explain himself, had to make him see, and then everything would turn out right. They could be together again, and he’d at least feel whole, again.

“You restored my memories,” Dean starts off slowly,”And all I could see was you, Sam. You, time after time, because you were my life, before. Before all of the _shit_ happened!”

Sam’s nose crinkles and he turns away. “So, what?” He questions,”You’re saying... That you knew me before?”

Dean’s eyes crinkle and he nods,”You’re a hell of a lot older than three-hundred years old, man. But, I meet you in the early nineteen-hundreds, back when I was just a simple human that sold cars.”

“Go on,” Sam says uneasily.

“You were an angel, rejected by heaven because you did something that no other of your kind had ever done. You genuinely loved humans, with every fiber of your being,” Dean attempts to explain, watching Sam’s facial expression.

The warlock snorts, and questions,”An angel? Like halo, harp, the whole fucking shebang?”

“The whole fucking shebang,” The demon replies with a smirk. Then his face falters as he goes on,”We got married, and we even had a kid... But, you died birthing him and he was killed by your kind for revenge. They didn’t think something that could kill their own kind had any right to be alive,” He inhaled deeply and grits his teeth,”I’d lost everything in the span of a few minutes, Sammy. _Everything_. I was willing to do anything, anything to have you back, even if it wasn’t even really you... So, I accepted Crowley’s offer to take on the Mark of Cain and became a Knight of Hell.”

“...And in exchange,” Sam inquires.

“He would bring back your vessel,” Dean states, staring into Sam’s eyes,”He couldn’t bring you back fully or wholly because it wasn’t in his power. That’s why you don’t remember anything of your past life. But, I have your grace. Maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to bring you, the real you back... if you’ll let me.”

Sam’s face shifts, showing signs of anger, confusion, and acceptance all at the same time. Then his lips press firmly together, and he juts his chin. “You’re batshit crazy. You really, really have lost the few marbles you had left,” He says at last, making the latter deflate,”But, for some damn reason, I find myself believing you. I guess that makes me batshit crazy, too, huh?”

Dean laces his fingers with Sam’s, and squeezes his hand tight. “I feel like I’ve been on a bad acid trip, for all these years. man. Because when I remembered you, it was like I never spent a lifetime down below. Like my soul had never been through the fucking blender,” He admits with a quivering breath,”I feel... human, again. I’m really fucking _feeling_ for the first time in god-knows how long!”

“Don’t you go soft on me,” Sam quips, and folds his hands over his middle.

“You’re pregnant,” Dean says dumbly.

Sam gives him a bemused smile, and says in a too-sweet tone,”Oh, great. I thought it was gonna take you a little longer for you to figure that out, so the marching band won’t be here until this evening.”

“Okay...so it’s mine,” The demon guesses.

“I’m pretty sure we already had this conversation,” The warlock points out with a huff,”But let me do a quick recap - I’m pregnant with _your_ demon spawn, and yes, it’s growing at twice the rate of a normal baby, which is making me twice of a hormonal mess.”

Sam glances up, his eyes glazed over, as he slowly licks his lips. Dean’s lips part ever so slightly at that, and he exhales sharply as his heart begins to beat frantically in his chest. The warlock bites at his lip and leans forward, running a hand over up the latter’s inner thigh, until it was settled over his crotch. He squeezed, and the demon groaned aloud, cursing as he pounced forward like a lion onto an antelope.

 

**Three Minutes Later**

 

Sam’s back arched as Dean’s twitching cock plunged into him again. “A- _ah_!”

Dean growled against Sam’s neck, and he digs his teeth into the tender flesh as he continues to thrust. His tongue duns over the angry red marks he had left. “Oh yeah, that’s good…” He groans, churning his hips.

Sam’s legs spread wider, letting the demon further in. Dean pushed, his cock went all the way in to the hilt, and he slammed against the latter’s prostate. A long, wrecked moan spilled out of Sam, his legs shaking, forced wide by the latter’s strong body. His toes were curled as he bit at his lip.

“Dean, ah, fuck,” Sam moans, close to tears as he wrenches his fingers through Dean’s close cropped hair, and wraps his legs around his waist,”Y-You’re killing me, ah... Dean, Dean, Dean!”

Dean presses desperate, sweat tinged kisses against Sam’s jaw. “You’re so good for me, Sammy. So, fucking tight...” He groans, kissing and sucking his way down his neck. The warlock’s whole body was shuddering against his, squeezing around the dominating girth of his cock.

Sam continues gushing praises,”Dean, Dean, Dean...”

Dean gave Sam a teasing spank, making his ass bounce as he rutted him deep. The demon groaned and his hand twisted in the warlock’s hair as he thrust one final time, his thick cock spilling. The warlock moaned slumping his face against the latter’s neck as he felt pulse after pulse of cum pump into him. It filled him to the brim, satisfying him and leaving him sleepy and pliant in the demon’s arms.

A few minutes passed, and they were both sprawled out and panting on the bed with Sam curled up protectively in Dean’s arms. The warlock was resting his head against the latter’s chest, running his hand up and down his arm as he hums softly to himself. The demon has his head laid back on the pillows propped up, and he’s lazily watching the television. It’s some crap CW network show, that should have ended at season five, but for some reason, he can’t stop watching it.

“Whatcha ya watchin’,” Sam murmurs.

“Some crap show. Never seen it before,” Dean is quick to grumble, knowing he’d never hear the end of it, if Sam knew about his avid fascination with the show. 

If Sam knows he doesn’t say anything, he just nods and yawns, nuzzling against his chest. He watches the television with him, and quickly becomes invested.

“Wait, so how do they pay for the motels?” Sam questions.

Dean explains with an amused smirk,”They hustle pool and commit a little identity theft. It’s no biggie.”

“How haven’t they been caught yet?”

“I don’t know. Just watch the show,” Dean sighs, waving the latter off. He gets a mere few seconds of silence when he begins questioning again.

“So,” Sam says, popping the ‘o’,”Tell me, when I was an angel, was sex that good? Or somehow, even better?”

“What kind of question is that?” Dean asks with a scoff.

“Curious,” Sam shrugs, placing a hand on his baby bump. Dean eyes it, the round curve in the latter’s abdomen that can fit in the palm of his hand. He most notice all of the staring because he asks,”Do you want to touch it?”

“Y-Yeah,” Dean states. Sam grabs his hands and presses them to his swollen torso, but he gasps softly, when Dean leans down and presses a kiss to it.

“I know, I look like I’ve had a few too many slices of cake,” Sam stammers with a light blush, not knowing how to respond to the affection.

“You’re beautiful, angel,” Dean said simply, keeping his hands against his belly. Then he laid his head there. Sam peered down at the head pressed against his belly and slid his fingers through his short hair.

_“Marry me,” Dean exclaims._

_Sam froze and nearly dropped the pitcher of water. Spinning on his heel and nearly crushing one of the many rows of sherbet orange tulips, he sputters,“What?”_

_“Marry me,” Dean repeated, firmer the second time around._

_Sam’s heart tripped and stuttered within his chest as the pitcher falls from his loose grip. “Dean,” He whispers, launching himself into the latter’s arms with a loving sigh,”Yes, yes, yes. Yes!”_

_Dean grins from ear to ear, and exclaims,”Yes! Wait, yes? As in -“_

_“Yes!” Sam moans as molds his lips into Dean’s._

_Dean kisses him deeply, before breaking it to state,”I’ll write to my family in the morning. Now, go get changed out of those filthy clothes. We’re going out to eat, so that we can properly celebrate with some champagne and a little music.”_

_“Oh, Dean,” Sam chirps with a smile,”Will you even dance with me? You never, ever dance -“_

_“Oh, lay-off about that nonsense. I simply don’t have the talent,” Dean scoffs._

_Sam gently reminds him,”You’ll have to learn before the wedding, so you may as well practice with me.”_

_“And embarrass myself with you, ding bat.”_

_“Dilly,” Sam says fondly,”Is that not what husbands do? Embarrass one another.”_

_Dean rolls his eyes, and presses a kiss to Sam’s cheek. “You’re lucky I love you, angel,” He murmurs against the soft flesh with an agitated sigh._

_Sam laughs and responds,”And I you.”_

“Dean,” Sam snaps with a frown.

“Wha -“

“You zoned out,” Sam states, his frown becoming a thin line.

Dean blinks and simply says,”Oh.”

“You were remembering, weren’t you?” The warlock questions, his expression softening.

The demon nods, and gulps heavily. “I had just asked you to marry me. And were teasing me about my dancing...” He states as if in a haze,”I’ve barely seen anything from my past life, but already, it’s better than anything I’ve ever endured in this life.”

“...I can’t exactly emphasize with you here,” Sam starts,”Hell, I honestly have no idea what to tell you because I know nothing about my past life, and I already know that it’s definitely infinitely better than the shit we’re living in now.”

“We’ll find a way for you to remember, too. I promise,” Dean declares solemnly,”Didn’t you say you already tried a memory spell?”

Sam nods and clarifies,”Hundreds of times, before all of this mess.”

“Then we’ll find another way.”

“Why don’t we just ask?”

“...Ask?”

Sam shrugs and states,”You know, why don’t s shuts ask another angel? Surely they’d remember me.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Dean admits, running a hand over his jaw,”I guess we can call up one of your old buddies, see what they know.”


End file.
